


Still Haunted

by deedeejadexo



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Marvel Universe, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeejadexo/pseuds/deedeejadexo
Summary: Prompt: Tony is having a nightmare/freaking out/panic attack. Luckily, Peter’s class is having a field trip to Stark Industries. Friday notifies Peter and he immediately gets away from his class (much to their surprise/awe) and goes to help his mentor.





	1. My Mind Won't Let Me Rest

“You…could’ve done more…” Were the gargled and short sharp rasps forthcoming from Steve’s lips as Tony hovered despairingly over his colleague who lay haphazardly against debris and rubble. The iron clad avenger’s expression filled with alarm as he quickly lowered himself into a crouch, faceplate retracting and brown eyes roaming over his friends’ tense and shaking body, assessing for damage and injury. Blue mask frayed and gripped in one gloved fist, the famous, heavy circular shield Tony’s father had created lay in two shredded and fragmented pieces beside its equally renowned and heroic owner. It was covered in dirt and more than a lot of blood. So much so it was nearly unrecognisable.

It was dark and so very cold, as it had been many times before during this moment. The sky above them filled black with only the distant stars to illuminate them and allow them to see.

In his peripheral he could make out the too still forms of the rest of his team – his friends, fallen in battle and lifeless. A large green hulking mass lay in a crater to his right, red flaming hair and a black clad body crumpled to his left. Just above Cap on top of more wreckage and soot, he could just about see the blurry beaten and broken figures of Thor and Barton. Red cape torn, hammer reduced to mere rubble and bow beyond splintered. They were all scattered around him, facing him, blood-spattered. And he was sure without properly looking, that their eyes were open, unmoving and taunting him, blaming him.

_“—oss…”_

Tony’s brow furrowed slightly as he heard the whispered tail end of a familiar voice he couldn’t quite place. It sounded as if it were coming from somewhere behind him.

Steve’s face however, bruised and bloody and clearly in excruciating pain, quickly distracted him from paying it too much attention and as his mind cleared, he watched the Captain take a brave but abused and pitiful lung full of much needed air. He heard the laboured wheeze and couldn’t hold back the wince if he tried.

“Cap,” Tony breathed, eyes expressing more pain and sorrow than he thought his mouth or voice ever could. His red gauntlet covered hands hesitated, reaching fearfully for the man he was crouched over, unsure whether and where to touch him, wanting to offer the only comfort he could.

The Captain, for his part, turned his head away from Stark, halting all of Tony’s movement. Eyes as blue and wet as the ocean held so much contempt and betrayal before they fell closed for a moment, shutting him off.

“Why didn’t you do more?”

Tony felt the pang of remorse and regret hit him in his heart. He watched as a dirty and matted blonde strand of hair fell into the soldiers exhausted eyes. He felt his stomach lurch; you could bottle the disappointment pouring off the other man in waves. And despite all his protesting and contrary to the otherwise, he did care what the hundred year old Capsicle thought.

Tony took another stuttered breath and just like that, the Captain turned his head back towards him, his eyes staring into him and steel returning to his expression. It was coupled with such distain and anger Tony wasn’t even used to seeing the man direct towards their enemies. When he spoke, it was so sure sounding and quiet it almost carried away with the wind.

“You did this…”

Stark felt the air leave his lungs as the words hit him hard. He hadn’t an answer. What could he say to that? Staring back at his teammate, he could only shake his head, disbelieving, feeling his eyes burn with the attempt to not well up. Lips parted but he failed to speak. This shouldn’t have happened. Cap was right. He had no excuse. He should’ve saved them. This was his fault. He should’ve been here. He should’ve—

_“Boss!”_

His stomach dropped at hearing the distressed voice. A distinctive voice that he knew. Had created. Was that…? It couldn’t be… How…?

Panic seized his chest, confusion gripping the edges of his frayed reality when Steve promptly went limp, head falling back and to the side, eyes still staring at him but now motionlessly and absent. His own breathing beginning to pick up pace, Tony watched helplessly as Steve started to fade from view in front of him, materialising into nothing more than a blurred shadow. Tony reached out a hand to grab him, palm only falling straight through his blue spangled shoulder and hitting the rubble behind him. The brunette looked up, startled, to see the edges of his vision blackening.

He stood, wavered, frowned as terror seemed to envelop him, running through his veins. Sweat began to gather and burn his heated skin under his armour. He blinked, felt his diaphragm constrict with each pained and exacerbated breath.

_“—on’t worry Boss…”_ the voice spoke again, still distant but no less clear. Though somewhat louder. _“…is here...has been alerted…is coming…”_

Tony’s steps faltered when he took a few backwards in rapid recognition. The Irish accent was too distinct for it not to hit him.

“Friday?” He barked incredulously, eyes swimming in near total blackness now, his heart hammering so powerfully and painfully he felt it would soon leave his ribcage. Who was coming? Was he safe?

_“Sir?”_

Wait.

Tony felt his knees begin to shake, his breathing near hyperventilation by this point. That wasn’t Friday’s voice, this time. That was—

“Kid?!”

_“—ster Stark...”_

Dark brown eyes darted around blindly in the darkness, body spinning around then searching and unseeing, for the owner of that young and steadily increasingly worried voice.

“Parker,” Tony called, the urge and instinct to protect the kid far greater than his own self-preservation. Whatever had attacked and had – Tony grimaced – taken – for lack of wanting to use a better word – his friends from him, could still be here or be coming back. It could take the kid, too. Well, he’ll be damned if he was going to let that happen. Regardless of any mid melt down or fright he was currently begrudged with. He was here now. And he was going to go down swinging, just like any other time.

_“Sir—”_ Tony strained to listen, Peter’s voice too, sounding far away and distant. _“—hear me?”_

Tony closed his eyes, pain beginning to form in his head as he tried to make sense of the entire farcical situation he found himself in.

_“...up Mister Stark…”_

Trying to shove down the inner turmoil he felt, Tony braced himself for anything that may come, faceplate dropping and preparing to shout for the teenager to come and find him seeing as he couldn’t do the honours and find him himself. Just about to shout out his name again and fire up his jet propulsors and ready his rockets, Tony felt a sharp pang in his shoulder, almost as though it went straight through his suit and to the bone, as a hand gripped him and began to shake firmly.

_“Mister Stark, wake up!”_

Taking in a swift inhalation of oxygen through a gasp, his eyelids opened abruptly. So suddenly that light flooded into his retinas and made his eyes burn with the intensity. Before his brain had entirely caught up with himself, he lunged forward and threw a defensive fist at the form of whoever it was he instantly registered was shaking him and looming over him.


	2. Your Mind Won't Let Me Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, a few floors down, Peter had just arrived at Stark Industries...

Peter Parker followed his friend Ned into the next room; glistening gadgets and gizmos pertaining to energy preservation and beating global warming surrounding them as far as the eye could see.

He’d forgotten when he’d woken up this morning that he’d be going to Stark Industries on a field trip today. As such, he’d forgotten to not only pack a lunch, but to dress – what the teacher had told them all a few days prior – respectfully. This was a place of great admiral business and they should treat it as such, yadda yadda. This was a Tony Stark facility and should be treated with mature behaviour and reverence, yadda yadda. They should not touch anything unless by invitation of staff, yadda yadda.

Peter had halted upon entry when a hurrying young and pretty employee he didn’t recognise by-passed his class and smiled at every child in turn, only to double take and frown slightly when catching sight of him. Her eyes lingering a little apprehensively on his chest, taking in his attire. Clad in his hoody, jeans and usual scruffy day sneakers, Peter self-consciously pulled at and drew the zip up, pulling his hoody closed over his faded and jaded physics mocking t-shirt. “Heh,” he grimaced at the young lady, her disapproving expression not dissipating before she carried on with her way.

He didn’t understand what the fuss what all about in all honesty. He’d never dressed fancy or ‘respectfully’ when he’d come here before in his spare time. If anything, he only stood out more now, being the only one who wasn’t dressed smart-casual.

He kept his head down and remained unusually quiet when the tour had started, earning sniggers from Flash and perplexed glances from Ned. He kept hands in his pockets as they made their way through the tour, went from room to room, not entirely listening to the guide that showed them around and taught them what every piece of technology and instrument was for, how it works.

“…and that is how Mr. Stark believes we can harness this power and be able to transfer and manipulate it to power our everyday appliances, such as your toasters and cell phones, all the way to the light we use in our homes and the power grids under the earth that we depend on every day.” The guide explained, waving and gesturing animatedly to the robotics and staff manning them, behind them. “Cool, don’t you think?” He was met with a mixture of vacant blank stares of about thirty children after this question but carried on as though he were met with cheers.

“Well, don’t be shy, go on and have a closer look. Don’t forget to take this time to ask the technicians anything you like in order to further your own learning!”

The crowd of school children dispersed amongst themselves in the large hall, noise quickly rising as people got to talking, echoes filling their spaces. 

Ned turned to Peter; frown fixed in place. “Dude, you ok? You’re acting… Weird.”

“Yeah,” Peter automatically replied. “I just… I forgot we were coming here. And I’d really rather not get recognised, you know?”

Ned’s head tilted slightly in confusion. “But why?” His eyes bulged when a thought quickly occurred to him. “Wait, do the people here know you’re Spider-Man?!”

Peter’s head shot up in a panic at the level of Ned’s voice. “No!” He hissed in quiet alarm, his hands coming to rest on his friend’s shoulders placatingly, fingers grabbing purchase on the smart shirt he wore.

“They don’t know. But some of them think I work here – Mr. Stark’s internship, remember?”

Ned nodded in understanding, eager still for something.

“But that’s good, isn’t it? Maybe we’ll get special treatment, like, cafeteria food for lunch or get some freebies or something!”

Peter blinked, lips drawing into a line as he thought his words over carefully.

“Ned,” he began carefully, “I don’t actually have an internship here. I don’t want them to know I’m here because I don’t actually know anything about any of this! What if they ask me a question and expect me to know the answer? Everyone would know I’m a total fraud for sure.”

Realisation quickly dawned in Ned's irises. He nodded and not unkindly shrugged Peter’s hands off of his shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re right. That _would_ be embarrassing.” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed quickly, a shy smile of his own gracing his cheeks.

They spent a further five minuets or so actually attempting to take an interest in the machinery around them, the processes of how each mechanism worked and how they were built much more appealing to the inner engineer inside Peter than the razzmatazz typical Stark way they were all presented. He was just about considering asking one of the technicians working on a computer in front of him to explain what he was doing when he heard an overdramatised insufferable groan from behind him.

Peter dropped his hand that was idly fiddling with his zip and toyed instead with the hem of his sleeves, turning his head minutely so as to observe the owner of the voice.

“This is so _lame_.”

Flash was stood a few paces behind him to his right, overlooking a large looking computer that looked, if Peter had to guess, like it was computing several algorithms in relation to converting some kind of energy into recyclable, more manageable components to use in the device that circled around it.

Immediately Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t expect that Flash would appreciate where they were and what happened in this building. Not at all. Ned scoffed haphazardly beside him, obviously having had the same thought Peter had.

Movement caught the corner of his eye though after that. And quickly pretending like he hadn’t been eavesdropping and simply observing the device in front of him, Peter played ignorant.

He wasn’t, however, having a particularly lucky day today.

“Hey, Parker,” Flash’s voice called teasingly. Several heads in their vicinity, staff and student alike, turned in their direction. Peter braced himself, heart sinking and turned to face him, expression stony as not to reveal anything. Flash smirked, seemingly happy to catch him in what he thought was unaware, “can you show us the way to all the superhero cool Avenger stuff now? Seeing as you, you know, _work_ here and all?”

Mumbles of excitement and discussion amongst themselves emerged from the crowd of children around them as more people gathered to get closer to hear what Peter had to say. As it was, Peter glared right back at Flash, his hands clenching a little as his heartbeat sped up. Flash triumphantly cocked an eyebrow in return, daring him to defy him and decline, folding his arms over his chest.

Ned, in a panic and slight impulsiveness, bounded forward in front of Peter and spoke up quickly in a flurry of distraction. “He uh, he can’t… he… because… because…”

“Because?” Flash mimicked back, his smirk growing more jubilant as the seconds drew on.

Peter watched almost as if in slow motion as Ned floundered in front of him for an explanation. He opened his mouth, anger and embarrassment warring for victory inside his turbulent brain. God knows what he was going to say to get himself out of this one.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Another figure stepped in once again from behind him and beat him to it.

“Because any idiot knows that all the Avengers and all the superhero stuff is back at the Avengers facility, not at Stark Industries, right Peter?”

Peter gaped and simply nodded, staring back into the beautiful dark brown eyes of Mary-Jane, who merely winked sweetly but fondly at him. She didn’t even pause, carried on walking, past all of them and towards the big computer around them, looking more interested in it than any of them, borderline suspicious of it, even.

Flash looked from arrogant and smug to seeming like he was about to stomp his feet at any second, in a matter of moments. The crowd around them started to disperse again, losing interest with the less confrontation being displaced.

“Well,” Flash grappled at straws, stepping forward to point at Peter petulantly. “Seeing as Parker claims he knows Spider-Man and Tony Stark, maybe he can get one of them or maybe both of them to come out and say hi! Liven this party up a bit!”

Peter could feel sweat begin to prickle his skin. He couldn’t believe he forgot he was coming here today. What a perfect time to have worked on his sudden fake upset stomach. He’d much rather have been at home in bed or in his room than here at Stark industries with his classmates, least of all one who was trying to out him. Peter silently hoped that Flash was just trying to prove he was lying about having the internship and not about anything else. He hoped he didn’t suspect he was a certain crime fighting red spandex wearing wall climber and was trying to get him to admit it. Whatever the reason, Peter was beginning to feel the nerves and wanted out of this predicament.

“Give it a rest, Flash, just because you’re jealous.” Came MJ’s velvety voice, almost bored sounding. She didn’t even turn from her pose and stance in front of what she was looking at, twiddling a lose curl that fell from her bun around her finger and appearing to read the contextual slide that was placed beside one of the great super computers, presumably informing her specifically about what she was looking at.

“He doesn’t work here, dammit. He doesn’t know them or have an internship. And I’ll find some way to prove it!” Flash shouted back, his voice carrying an indignant but decided and concluded snarl.

Peter put a hand on Ned’s arm to stop him from saying something in retaliation as he could feel him raring up to do so beside him. Instead, his own feet carrying him a few steps forward as he opened his mouth to say what he hoped would shut Flash up. He was admittedly happy that he didn’t suspect him of being the masked crusader, but at the same time, the frustration of being a pawn to this bullies’ games was ever present and bugging him beyond belief, getting to his last nerves. 

He stopped a few feet in front of him, his determined and hard set dark brown eyes had just made contact with Flashs’ when a soft but very loud sound which almost deafened him came from the speakers overhead. 

“Can Peter Parker please head down to the private office of Mr. Stark? Your presence has been requested urgently.”

Peter stopped abruptly, his mouth closing as he looked up toward the speaker in the ceiling, all but forgetting about Flash as the words processed in his jumbled brain. That was FRIDAY’s voice. How did she even know he was here? Was she watching them and knew that he’d – wait. Wait a second. Peter’s hitched a quiet breath – If she knew he was here, did that mean Tony did too? Was he put out and a little annoyed that he hadn’t told him he was coming?

Kids, members of staff and his classmates were once again looking at him, having turned around to stare in wonder and consideration after the announcement was made.

Peter felt his face pull down into a frown when he detected the the odd sound of concern in the voice. He didn’t give it too much thought however as FRIDAY’s voice filled the, now dead quiet, of the hall once again.

“As soon as you are able. The boss wishes to see you to discuss something with great _importance_.”

The way FRIDAY said that last word got Peter’s stomach churning uncomfortably. Something didn’t feel right here. He was shaken back into the present quite quickly by his teacher, who following the added prompt from the intriguing ambient voice, swiftly gestured excitedly in a ‘shooing’ fashion aimed directly at him. “Well, what are you waiting for Mr. Parker? You heard the woman, off you go!”

Flash made a sharp spluttered sound from behind him, but Peter regrettably didn’t manage to get a good look as he quickly spun on his heels to start making his way out of the hall. He passed Ned who was avidly giving him an encouraging and supportive double thumbs up amid bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was now standing beside MJ, who looked decidedly proud and a little more than sure of herself as she curiously followed his movement quietly.

Peter felt his cheeks heat as a blush made its way across his face. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had to get to Tony, quickly by the sounds of it. He rushed quickly out of the door, all but nearly tripping and falling into another of Stark's employees as they made their way into the hall.

He rounded a corner, then another, picking up his fast walk into more of a slow sprint effortlessly. He knew exactly where he was going. Tony didn’t have an office here. The big main office was Peppers. He didn’t even work here anymore. He, by his own admission, said he’d never go to Pep’s office during working hours as it gives the outward impression he doesn’t trust Pepper to run the company.

Peter didn’t know if Pepper was here today, or if Tony was for that matter. He didn’t know if this was a ploy to get him to apologise to the man about not telling him he’d be here, if it was Happy or FRIDAY’s way to get him away from everybody else to inform him of some impending danger and a mission awaited him. Or if it was simply genuine – that Tony needed his input and contribution about something. Maybe a new gadget or something that was official Avenger business, maybe something suit related, Peter thought excitedly. His or Tony’s, he didn’t much care. Whatever it was, Peter didn’t want to keep the man waiting any longer than he needed to. Whatever the reason, if Tony was here, he knew where he’d be. Tony didn’t have an office here, that was true, but he did have his own living quarters.

Peter picked up his sprint and made his way through corridor after corridor, up and down a few staircases and down a few more corridors. Only stopping when he saw the large impenetrable familiar door come into view.

Without missing a beat, he reached for the handle and went to swing the door open, only for it to not budge.

He raised his fist to knock on the door politely. “Mr. Stark?” He called patiently, “it’s me, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me?”

No response came. And after a few moments more of knocking and receiving only quiet in retort, Peter felt like maybe he was wrong, maybe Tony wasn’t here and had in fact gone to Pepper’s office, after all.

Rubbing the back of his head and carding his fingers through his chestnut hair, Peter deliberated whether to try her office, despite the chances of pissing off Pepper if she was working and further annoying his mentor after having kept him waiting even longer. He was about to turn around and make his way there when he heard a strangled cry come from the other side of the door. A decidedly panicked cry.

Peter dropped his hand back to the door and stepped forward in rising concern. “Mr. Stark? You in there, sir?”

Another shout came from inside the room, followed by another, each louder and more unnerved than before. In quick succession they met his ears.

“Mr. Stark!”

Peter grabbed the handle again, rattling it with considerable strength before giving in. it wasn’t going to move. He heard a crash of something shattering before more muffled distorted shouts. 

Not thinking twice, or at all, acting purely on instinct, the boy gathered control over his rapidly beating heart and after bracing himself, held his breath as he took a few steps back and threw all his unlimited strength into the large door in front of him. It shook on its hinges, nearly giving way. Determined and inspired, Peter did this again, and again, angling his shoulder just so, until eventually (and after a particularly superhuman strong lunge) the door fell forward off its hinges and Peter came literally barrelling into the room, silently thanking his super human agility as he rolled with perfect dexterity before landing on his feet, legs bent and lowering himself into his trademark stance, ready to fight whatever had decidedly to befall his mentor.

 _Poor you, dude. You picked the wrong guy_. Peter thought cynically, preparing for the unexpected and mentally for a fight, his wrists ready to flex and fling webbing. His trained ears listened for the sign of distress he’d heard moments previously, his eyes roamed the room before him, took in the large lounge area and small set of drawers in the corner – the lamp that once sat astride it now smashed on the floor. He sought out the sofa’s across from him, cushions all in disarray, his brown eyes landing on the man sprawled out on top of it.

“Tony,” Peter spoke, rising from his crouched position, stepping slowing more into the room and looking both left and right down the corridor for any unexpected yet suspected threat.

A short pained cry dragged his eyes back to the sofa quickly.

Confusion crinkling his brow, Peter made his way over to the man. He was asleep – or seemed to be. If you could call _this_ sleep. He took in his appearance, rumpled suit, shirt and pants, the blazer and tie he presumably wore with it draped on the back of the furniture haphazardly.

He looked in the throes of terror. Tony tossed and turned, his handsome face distorting into something akin to panic as sweat gathered on his brow. His eyes tightly shut, hands in fists, clenching and unclenching firmly.

Peter looked on as he finally stepped around the shards of the broken lamp and in front of him. He listened to the distressed whimpers and occasional shouts that came from the man and swallowed nervously before approaching the him fully. He leaned over apprehensively and reached out.

“Sir?”

How was he supposed to deal with this? This was not what he had been expecting. Not at all. A fight, maybe. Or even a telling off. But not this.

“Kid?” A quiet almost soft bewildered whisper replied, but otherwise Stark didn’t move.

Peter grimaced. He didn’t even know that Tony had such a bad relationship with sleep. Was this just a one off? Or does this happen a lot? Is this why he always refused to stay late anymore at the parties they threw at the Avengers facility? Refused to ever sit down when he was tired in fear he’d fall asleep? If he thought about it though, it wasn’t all that surprising he had nightmares. After all the man had been through.

Just shy of touching him, Peter tried again to reach him, bending to a crouch in front of the sofa and calling louder.

“Wake up, Mr. Stark,”

And how would he feel knowing he was here now? One thing he did know about that man was that he was incredibly private for such a famous and popular person. Yeah, he was Iron Man and known for his money and intelligence, his wealth and gratuitous lifestyle as well as his, in more recent years, selfless generosity. But when it came to his personal life, Peter was aware that he liked to keep things quiet even to those closest to him. Given half the chance, Peter would wager – were he old enough to – that Tony would prefer he walk away now and pretend he hadn’t seen him in the midst of a panicked night terror.

“Parker,”

But this is Peter Parker we’re talking about. And he is a lot of things. But cruel, he didn’t even think he could entertain that notion theoretically. 

Tony had called out for him again, broken but still sounding so sure and – did Peter detect a trace of that stubbornly overbearing protectiveness? 

He reached out and placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze in response, his heart aching the way it had when he was in a similar position only not that long ago with his uncle. Peter shook his head to clear his thoughts – now was not the time for that…

“Sir, can you hear me? If you can, it’s Peter. You need to wake up, Mister Stark.”

Peter could see that Tony was trying. Whatever he was seeing behind closed lids must have been truly frightening, because Tony flinched away from him and tried to shove his hand off his shoulder and create further distance. His arms began to twitch, his fists clenching tightly.

Peter watched him try to wake himself unsuccessfully. Tony resumed his troubled mumblings, shouting out again in panic. And biting his lower lip anxiously, Peter threw caution to the wind and grabbed the man by both shoulders, shaking him not altogether roughly, but enough to garner what he thought would be enough to wake him. This wasn’t right, his mentor didn’t deserve this and if he was being honest, it was starting to really upset Peter watching the man he looked up to in so much pain and not able to make it stop.

He dug his fingers into the skin through the shirt that stuck to the man’s back, not relenting in his jolting, a yell of concern and fear of his own, louder than that of Tony’s, running straight to and through his ears.

“Mister Stark, wake up!”

He expected the gasp and intake of much needed air. He expected dark brown eyes to fly open in horror, uncertainty and even maybe surprise. But what he didn’t expect was the fast, strong and powerful fist headed his way, aimed straight for his face…


End file.
